


Just Put Your Hands On Me (Do I Feel Dirty?)

by castielsstarr



Series: SPN Kink Bingo Fics 2016 [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Come Eating, Coming In Pants, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Somnophilia, Touch-Starved, a hint of self loathing, implied wincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/castielsstarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Sam had a problem. He’d never even thought about it before until one day he noticed the way Bobby’s fingers wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/gifts).



> This fic was originally just going to be for [thedropoutandthejunkie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie), but then I realized that it fulfilled one of my squares for kink bingo. So, here we are.

Sam had a problem. He’d never even thought about it before until one day he noticed the way Bobby’s fingers wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle. Strong, thick, but surprisingly gentle in their grip on the condensation-covered glass. How would hands like that feel against his skin? The power behind them could hurt but they chose not to, and he wasn’t sure if that was why he liked the idea.

“What’re you lookin’ at, boy?”

“N-nothing, sorry. Zoned out.”

Bobby nodded and took his beer over to his desk, continuing the book he had been reading earlier. Sam had to force himself to stop watching those fingers turning pages and leave the room before the older man saw the flush that had taken to his cheeks.

\----

Later in the week, he noticed it again. Bobby had been working out in the garage all morning, and when Sam came out to ask what he wanted for lunch, he found him elbow deep in the hood of a maroon ‘69 Nova.

“Good timing; got my hands full right now. Can you hand me that wrench?” The hand he pointed with was slicked with a bit of grease in places, and Sam had to gulp down the saliva that pooled under his tongue. “Sam?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He startled back to himself and headed to the open toolbox resting on Bobby’s workbench. It wasn’t purposeful, but their fingers brushed when he handed over the small, metal wrench. A shiver ran the length of his spine as a calloused finger grazed his knuckle, and he knew how obvious the erection growing in his pants was going to be in a minute. It was getting harder as he made his way from the room, his jeans fully tented by the time he leaned back against the closed garage door.

Sam gripped himself and tried to bite back a whimper as some bit of relief rushed him. He needed to get himself under control. No one’s hands had ever affected him this way before and the desire to have them over every inch of his body was beyond inappropriate. This was Bobby, for fucks sake. He’d practically raised him and his brother, and he’d been gracious enough to let Sam come live with him for a while when he needed a break from the monsters. Now all he could think about was the strength of those hands roughly grabbing his hips, spanking bruises into his ass, and wrapping tight around… fuck.

His hips had been rolling without his express permission, pressing into his hand, and he was close enough that he wasn’t going to make it back to his room before he came. Staggering was the only word for his jerky movements as he simultaneously tried to keep rubbing and squeezing his raging hard-on, get it freed from the confines of his pants, and move toward the sink.

Fingers equally as tight, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other fisting his cock, stripping it quick and rough. The older man could walk through the door any second and he’d be in so much trouble, but the thought brought him right to the edge. Holy shit, he was jerking off in Bobby’s kitchen. Fuck, he was gonna _come_ in Bobby’s kitchen. But he couldn’t help what the thought of those hands did to him.

He could feel his balls tightening and he brought the hand that wasn’t about to get him off up to cover his mouth, muffling the first moan. Luckily, the sink was empty and he didn’t have to avoid hitting dishes, just let his cock unload, stripe after stripe blending in with the white porcelain. Faint traces of groans, whines, and huffed breath escaped from behind his hand, but it wouldn’t have been enough that Bobby could have heard. Sam only let himself relish in the post-orgasm high for a brief moment before he tucked himself back in his pants and rinsed out the sink. He’d scrub it down later when Bobby ran out to get them something for dinner.

\----

It was never supposed to get this bad, and Sam didn’t know what to do about it now that it was. He couldn’t stop watching Bobby’s hands. Hell, it wasn’t just Bobby, either—he was watching the newscaster the other night and immediately hardened in his sweatpants. It softened again before the surly old man came back in the room or he would have gotten a lecture about propriety or some shit.

Now, with Bobby sitting next to him on the couch, hand resting on the cushion between them, Sam felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin from trying not to touch. Even if it wasn’t anything serious, he just wanted to feel the weight of them, or trace the man’s fingers with his own. He squirmed, keeping his hands tucked under his legs.

“What’s gotten into you?”

He could easily play this off. “Just got a little too much energy tonight, that’s all.”

Bobby shook his head and studied him for a moment more. “That ain’t it. Something’s up. You ain’t drinking demon blood again, are you?”

Sam was going to reply, but the hand that had been on the couch was suddenly on his knee and the moan was out of his mouth before the touch registered. The weight of it was heavier and warmer than he’d thought and he was aching after only a couple seconds of contact.

“What the hell? Did you… moan?”

He had to swallow thick around the lump in his throat as he nodded. “Look, Bobby, I’m sorry.” God, he wasn’t sorry, though, and why had the man not removed his hand? He was torn between wanting it gone so he could think, and never wanting it to leave again.

“What’s going on here, Sam?” His fingers twitched just slightly, not a caress, more just a normal spasm, but it had the younger hunter panting between parted lips. 

This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, especially not with Bobby, but the way he’d taken to staring at the man this past week, he probably owed him the explanation. It took a great effort to force the words from his mouth, but he was able to quickly spit them out before he could change his mind. “It’s been a really long time since anyone has touched me. Not specifically talking about _that_ , but hugs or any contact. Dean stopped trusting me a long time ago, so it’s been a while.”

“Jesus, you can’t tell me I didn’t even hug you when you got here?”

Sam shook his head. “You were busy on a car, so I went inside to drop my bag and start making dinner.”

“Shit. And you’ve been here for six months already.” His face was confused, then, and he slid his hand forward no more than two inches on Sam’s thigh, but it caused him to let out another filthy moan.

“I can’t help it, I’m sorry. It feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah, I can, uh… I can tell that.” Bobby was trying not to eye the erection pushing against the material of Sam’s sweatpants. “I know I’m likely to regret this, but, do you need… what would… what could I do to help you?”

“Bobby, you don’t need t—”

“I damn-well know I don’t, but you don’t seem like you’re in great shape now.”

He didn’t know what to say. He sure didn’t want Bobby to stop, but if it continued, he’d likely end up asking for this to go way farther than originally anticipated. However, he didn’t have much of a choice when the hand moved from his leg, and Bobby was suddenly dragging Sam over by the meat of his upper arm to sit on his lap. 

Knees were pressed into the back of the couch and legs spread to make room for the older man’s thighs between them, and god, fuck, both of those thick hands were on his back. They rubbed small circles against his lower back making him shiver, and he was biting hard into his lip to keep the noises contained. One of those hands slid under his shirt and with the jolt he felt at actually having skin against him, Sam was sure he was going to bite clean through.

“Hey, uh,” Bobby’s voice was gentle. “Don’t bottle it up.” His thumb was tugging lightly at Sam’s lower lip, getting him to release it from the clutches of his teeth. “That’s what got you in this mess in the first place, so, uh, just… do what you need to.”

Sam was panting heavily, the touch to his lips making them tingle and almost burn. If this was anyone but Bobby, he would have already surged forward and kissed them, and hell, a part of him was still debating it even now. He didn’t get a chance to decide when those calloused hands moved from his back to his stomach, their weight resting heavy against his abs. “Ohhhh, god.”

“Is this ok?” 

Palms and fingers were pushing up over his stomach to his chest, fingertips brushing over his nipples and it made him shiver. “ _Nnng_ , shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sam didn’t know whether he was apologizing for the sounds or the way his hips were grinding his cock against the older man.

“You’re ok, boy. Just breathe.” Bobby slid his hands around to Sam’s back again, pulling the hunter closer, chest pressed against chest, Sam’s arms wrapped around Bobby’s shoulders. The closeness had Sam’s dick trapped between the two, against a slight hardness he could feel in the other man’s pants, and his hips were jerking in an unsteady rhythm.

“Bobby, _oh fuck_ I—”

“Go on, Sam. Don’t apologize. I told you whatever you needed, and I meant it.”

“I’m com— _ahhh_!” He held onto the other man as he felt his come warm and slick the inside of his boxers. There was so much that it was coating him, sliding down his balls, and he wondered if he was ever going to stop. Bobby was holding him tightly, too, letting him ride it out, the pressure of each finger digging into his back, keeping him from becoming lost in his orgasm.

When the tremors subsided, Sam’s arms fell off of Bobby’s shoulders and his head slumped forward, too heavy to hold up anymore. There were too many emotions rushing him at once and he was overwhelmed by the barrage of guilt and shame, yet still calm at the release he was allowed.

Those strong hands were gently stroking along his spine and Bobby was murmuring something in his ear that his scrambled brain couldn’t pick up, but he knew that everything was ok. When he came back down from this pseudo-high he had going on, they’d talk about what happened. Bobby would take care of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's starting to feel a little bit better after being so starved for human contact, but he's nowhere near close to being over it. Bobby's realizing that he can really help get Sam right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a fun dynamic to work with. I never thought I'd be quite so in love with it as I am, wow. If there's something between the two you might want to see, leave a comment! I'm not promising I'll take it that way, but I am open for suggestions!

They didn’t talk about it after the fact. It had been six days and they hadn’t talked about it. Other than one moment of slight awkwardness on the morning after, Bobby was acting like everything was completely normal. Sure, because it happened every day, having a younger man rubbing one off on him. Especially someone he had practically raised as a boy.

Sam was still feeling guilty and weird about the whole thing—he shouldn’t have put Bobby in a position like that. He was fucked up over the lack of contact, but it shouldn’t have needed to be fixed like that. Had he just asked for a hug a while ago maybe everything wouldn’t have gotten this bad. Sam was an adult, and if he knew when he needed things like food and sleep, he should have been able to tell that he needed touch, too.

There was a car out in the yard that he’d deemed his project after a couple of days there. After six months, she was in about the same condition as the day Sam started work on her. Some days he tried to clean her up—get some of the rust off of her and get her ready for a coat of paint—and others he was hammering more dings and dents into her body. He couldn’t just decide to keep making her nice, though. There were days where he honestly thought that the best way to eventually get her looking good was to cause a bit more damage first. It was the same thing that Sam was doing to himself and the parallel wasn’t lost on him.

Bobby hollered at him that dinner was going to be ready in a jif and that he should come clean up beforehand. After taking a quick sniff at his sweat-soaked t-shirt, he had to agree with the suggestion.

“Fresh towels are in the hall closet; just out of the dryer an hour ago,” Bobby said as he passed through the kitchen, clapping a hand to his shoulder. 

Sam nodded and held back the shiver as best he could. The man was making a more conscious effort to give him contact—small, innocuous touches that he was grateful for—but it was still new enough that it caused a reaction every time. Luckily, he’d been able to adjust enough so that the weight of a palm against his back when Bobby passed by didn’t make him moan anymore. 

It wasn’t until Sam got himself under the warm spray of the showerhead that the tingling remnants of Bobby’s touch dissipated. The water pressure here was fantastic and it helped to beat away some of the tension in his shoulders, but not the stiffening of his dick. Unfortunately, that part of him still always responded as well when he was touched.

He sighed and leaned sideways, his temple resting against the cool tiles. It was going to have to go down with some cold water because he still didn’t feel right about jacking off currently. Sam hadn’t done it since he came that night—every time he wrapped a hand around his cock, his mind instantly went to thoughts of Bobby’s hands on him. It was… weird. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea that he had been that intimate with the man who was a better father than his real one. He couldn’t say he didn’t like it, either.

“Supper!” he heard from the kitchen and quickly switched the water temperature. He was soft within a minute.

Clothes were quickly pulled on before he headed for the table, not wanting to make Bobby grumpy because he was kept waiting. It was a normal Friday night spread of green beans, mashed potatoes and meatloaf covered with a ketchup sauce. “Looks good,” Sam said, pointedly without looking up at Bobby. Sometimes even just looking at the man got him a little riled up, and if he could prevent that from happening at the dinner table, he was damn well going to.

“Thanks. Slaved over it all day,” he joked, shoving a forkful of potatoes and beans into his mouth.

Without any witty retort, Sam started eating, though in smaller bites. He was too caught up in his own head, trying not to think about the way he knew the fork and knife looked in the hands opposite him at the table.

It was a few minutes before either tried talking again, but as always, Bobby broke the silence first. “How’s that car of yours comin’?”

Sam nodded, eyes fixed on his plate. “She’s good. Got a ways to go still, but she’ll get there.”

“Sure will.”

More silence followed, and he wondered if he could come up with something to say that would ease the weirdness he could tell was swarming around them. Maybe it was just him.

Bobby tried once again to make small talk, and Sam once again failed to keep the conversation going for more than a sentence or two. God, he wanted to talk about it, them, whatever the fuck was going on. He wanted to talk, but he didn’t want to have to say anything. Just wanted to find a way to get the awkwardness to leave him alone.

It didn’t take long for either to finish their meal. “Why don’t you do the dishes and then come meet me in the living room? We’ll watch a movie or something tonight.”

The phrasing was a little odd, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Yeah, uh, sounds fine.” He pointedly ignored the look he got when the older man left the room.

Dishes were a quick and mindless chore that Sam honestly didn’t mind doing. The warm water flowing over his hands as he rinsed the plates clean had a calming effect on him, and it wasn’t long before he felt a little more comfortable with the idea of hanging out for the evening. He dried his hands off on the dishtowel hanging over the handle of the oven door before retreating to the living room.

The TV was on and Bobby was stretched out on the couch, flipping through channels. And why shouldn’t he be stretched out on the couch? This was his fucking house, he could sit wherever he pleased. But… the couch was usually Sam’s spot.

“C’mere, boy.” 

It was a quick, aimless gesture, but it was meant to indicate that he should join the older man. On the same couch where he had been straddling Bobby’s lap less than a week ago. Fuck. It took him a minute to get comfortable once he sat down, and even then he was wound up again.

“Anythin’ you in the mood for?”

Sam shook his head, knowing his voice was going to give away too much.

“Good. Then we’ll just put this on.” It was one of the old westerns he knew Bobby was fond of. They’d watched it with him dozens of times growing up. “Now, c’mere.”

“What?” His voice cracked and he looked up. Bobby was holding his arms up just slightly, spread open and waiting.

“Just get over here and then we’ll talk. Don’t make me drag you like last time.”

That was the first acknowledgement either of them had made to it and Sam didn’t really have a reason not to do what Bobby asked of him. He was hesitant, but the “yes, sir” was still distinct. Unsure of the best way to go about it, Sam moved until he was resting on one hip between the man’s legs, his torso turned slightly so that he could avoid digging in with his shoulder.

Hands, arms, _warmth_ encircled him, pulling him closer. He didn’t have any choice but to rest his weight fully onto Bobby. It didn’t seem to be a surprise to him when Sam started trembling. “I’m gonna say my piece and then I’m gonna want you to talk, too, alright?” 

He stopped talking, probably waiting for a reply, so Sam nodded, cheek pressed into the man’s shirt. Bobby smelled like home and comfort, and something about that made him almost want to cry. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain it.

“I know you ain’t always the type, and I certainly ain’t ever, but right now, for the duration of this movie, we’re gonna cuddle. As fuckin’ stupid a word as cuddlin’ is, it’s what you need right now.”

“Bobby, I—”

One hand slid under the hem of his t-shirt to rest against his skin and that shut him up right quick. “My piece, then yours. Got it?”

Another nod.

“I wasn’t just feedin’ you shit the other night when I said I was willin’ to help. I thought about it… like really fuckin’ thought about it, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you Sam. You’re startin’ to feel better, sure, but if you were all fixed, you wouldn’t still be shakin’ every time I go to touch you.”

Slow circles against his skin and Sam thought a more accurate word for his shivers might be closer to seizures.

“You got yourself all messed up, and we’re gonna work on making sure it doesn’t happen again. So, we’re gonna start by layin’ here together.” He paused. “Alright, now you can speak.”

“I don’t really have anything to say, I guess,” Sam muttered quietly against Bobby’s shirt.

“But if you do, tell me. If you decide you need something, don’t just sit there and think about it.”

He nodded and the brush of fabric against his cheek made the softest whine lodge in his throat. Pathetic. It felt good, sure, but it wasn’t supposed to feel like velvet moving over his skin. Maybe… maybe he needed a little more help than he thought. Sam let himself rest his arms against Bobby’s sides—a sort of hug without making a big deal out of it.

Didn’t matter because a hum of content rumbled through Bobby’s chest, spreading somehow through Sam’s entirety. It was soothing and those hands kept moving over him, and he might have hummed back. After a long while Bobby spoke again, this time his voice a little less confident than before. Nervous. “Sam? Do you, uh… do you need me to do anythin’ for you?”

Not that he could think of until he shifted upward a little, so his face was tucked into Bobby’s neck. The movement caused his jeans to drag across his groin, letting him know that he was rock hard. Fuck, that was pressing into Bobby the whole time—how did Sam not notice it? “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why this keeps happening.” Trying to struggle away proved useless.

“Well, I do. And quit your fightin’, will ya? Just settle down.”

It always surprised Sam that the older man was still stronger than he was. He gave up trying to wriggle away because it was only making his cock twitch in pleasure every time it rubbed against something. “Sorry.”

“No apologizin’, boy. I know how to help if you’re willing to let me.”

As he settled back down, Sam heard the quiet but distinct snick of a lube bottle being opened—where was he even hiding that?—and he buried his head directly into Bobby’s neck. Heat flooded his face and his heart pounded against his ribcage. His father figure was about to stick a finger in his ass. The first time had been bad enough. How the fuck had his life come to _this_?

There must have been some noise of embarrassment that came out of him, but he was too humiliated to notice. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to. You call stop at any time and I will. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

Sam sighed, trying to get his nerves straightened out. Getting his stomach twisted into even more knots wasn’t going to help. “I know. I, um…” God, this was going to sound wrong. “I want you to.”

“Ok, good, then.” His left hand continued to rub Sam’s back, attempting to soothe him again. The tension was starting to bleed from his muscles, when Bobby shifted his head to lean closer to Sam’s ear, voice murmuring low. “It might be a bit cold.”

Bobby’s hand was warm as it made its way underneath Sam’s boxers, wasting no time to slide his wet index finger between ass cheeks. Just the tip brushed and traced circles around the tight muscle, willing him to relax. It felt weird to have this man touching him like this, but he couldn’t deny that he needed this. His body was too turned on after just being wrapped in a comforting hug for thirty minutes.

Five minutes of light teasing, huffing breaths, and no forward progress, he knew that he was going to have to give a verbal hint that it was ok. It was supposed to be a full sentence, but all that came out was a soft, “please.”

The finger withdrew to lube up some more, but it came back, this time pressing slightly, slowly, inside. Only up to the first knuckle and then he stopped, letting Sam adjust and he couldn’t help but be appreciative of it. It’d been quite some time since anything more than his own fingers had been up there and while his were long, they were slender. Bobby’s were much thicker and the thought alone would have made him whine, but the feeling of it was better. His hole fluttered around the slight intrusion and Sam could have sworn that the man sighed a little.

“More, please?” If this was anyone else he would have squirmed, tried to take the finger in further without asking, but with Bobby he knew that it wouldn’t work. Trying to take instead of waiting to be given something would have the opposite effect.

Slowly, the finger made its way deeper inside of him, circling to stretch him as it went. It was an excruciatingly long time before that single finger was seated all the way. After a couple seconds of pause, it withdrew halfway to push back in. “Bobbyyy.” It was a long groan that trailed off.

“You doin’ ok?”

Sam nodded immediately against the material of his plaid shirt. “Yeah, I’m good. Your, uh, your fingers are thick.” He had no idea why he felt compelled to say it, but the man had that finger in his ass. What the fuck were boundaries anymore.

“Do you like that?” He pulled out and pushed in again, this time not resting afterward, just continuing to stroke along Sam’s soft insides.

“Mmhmm, _fuck_.” He inhaled deep into Bobby’s neck, trying to stay in control and not thrust himself either backward or forward. Sam was supposed to stay still and he was going to try his hardest. “Can I, ah, can I have another one?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re sure.”

“Please, I need it. Need you to stretch me wider.”

The chuckle reverberated through them both. “You sure do have a thing for hands.”

Sam couldn’t say much in regards to that when the finger withdrew to the tip and another one joined it, pushing in slowly together. “Shit, keep going. Feels so fucking good.” If he was begging he might as well let out the loud moan he’d been trying to swallow back. The sound of it made Bobby curse. “Don’t let me adjust to it. Just keep going. Make it harder.”

“I’m not tryin’ to hurt you here.”

“Won’t hurt me, please, do it.”

Those fingers were stuffed as far in as they could go before Sam could open his mouth to make another plea. “This what you want? Want me to fuck you full of my fingers?”

“Yes, god, _fuck_. Give me another.”

“Not this time. Want to see you come on just two. I know you think it’s not enough, but it’s plenty. Can you do that for me, Sam?”

He was nodding furiously, hands gripping into the man’s shirt. “Yeah, I’m… shit, I’m getting close.”

“Good, just relax. I’ll get you there.”

There was no doubt about that in Sam’s mind. The slap of Bobby’s hand against his ass as those fingers were thrust in made a fucking sinful noise, and it was driving him over the edge quick. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t reach his prostate from this angle—the feeling of being filled and the pressure against his dick was what he needed. “Almost, almost. Fuck, just a few mor—”

Beard was scratching lightly at his ear and his cheek, and he barely heard him say, “Next time I’ll get you off proper, with my hand wrapped around your cock,” before he was coming. The fingers didn’t stop moving—just kept thrusting into him in time with every clench of muscle as his cock spilled in his boxers. He was moaning, breath hot against Bobby’s neck, mouthing at his collarbone through his shirt. It was unintentional—just where his mouth happened to land—but Sam could hear the faint groans coming from him, too. It felt good to know he wasn’t the only one getting something out of this.

When Bobby’s fingers stilled, Sam was breathless, boneless, and panting. He wasn’t going to be able to stand for a long time. Maybe they could sleep here for just a little bit. He’d go to bed later, didn’t even care about the come cooling against his skin.

However, the fingers were removed from his pants, but not without a quick tap to his ass first. “C’mon, kid. You need a shower.”

Sam chuckled. “You’ll have to carry me.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Bobby take a shower together.
> 
> Tags: handjob, shower fun times, dirty talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... I'm a little unsure of? I wrote a thing I'm not confident writing, so whoops, that might come off a little weird. Hope y'all like it, though!

“You’ll have to carry me.”

What he wasn’t expecting was for Bobby to actually maneuver out from underneath him and then lift Sam into his arms in a bridal carry. With Sam’s height and bulk, there was no way that Bobby, who was smaller than him, should have been able to pick him up, let alone walk down the hall to Sam’s bathroom.

“Have you been working out or something?”

“You thought I was too frail, ya little shit.” Bobby chuckled and lowered Sam down to sitting on the closed toilet seat before shifting to turn the water on. “Always been stronger than your daddy, too, so don’t forget it.”

Trying to sit up straight without weaving a bit was harder than he thought. An orgasm half as strong as that usually made him weak, but this was completely messing with him. He could still feel the slight stretch of his hole and just thinking about it made him blush. The come drying inside the front of his boxers was beginning to tug on his pubic hair uncomfortably. Maybe Bobby was right about this whole shower thing.

“Sam? You good?”

Bobby sounded concerned and there was a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, why?”

“Just tryin’ to make sure you’re not gonna fall over while you’re in the shower. Don’t need to be takin’ you to the ER tonight.”

He nodded. “I’m good, seriously, I’ll be fine.” Sam tried to stand and clearly he wasn’t fine. His legs were as wobbly as a newborn calf and his vision swam the slightest bit. Reaching for the wall to stabilize himself, he instead found Bobby’s arm, gripping into the meat of his bicep.

“Yeah, fine my ass. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone look quite as wrecked as you do right now.”

“You should see me after I’ve really been fucked.” He chuckled at himself before realizing just which words had come out of his mouth and in what order. It was more inappropriate than he thought and he was afraid the older man might shy away from such a comment. “Maybe I’ll just…” Sam shifted and pulled at his boxers a little, trying to get them away from his skin. “I’ll shower in the morning.”

“You’ll hate yourself in the mornin’ when you’re tryin’ to get that mess off.” Bobby’s hands were moving toward the hem of Sam’s shirt, but stopping when they got there. “Will you let me help you?”

The question was different than he had been expecting. Somehow more delicate of a phrasing and that confused him. Regardless, he nodded yes and Bobby began to drag the fabric up over his head. Cotton smoothing over his skin made him shiver and sway, but one of those hot palms against his waist kept him upright. Why was he such a fucking mess?

“Why don’t you scoot over, lean against the wall, and we’ll get these offa you, too.” Bobby tugged very gently at the waistband of Sam’s jeans. Under other circumstances with other people, the move would have been suggestive, but with Bobby it was just a means of getting him to understand in his hazy state.

He nodded consent as he dropped his weight onto the wall beside him. Focusing was easier now that he wasn’t trying to keep himself from falling over without assistance. Bobby was slow, careful, in opening Sam’s belt, even though his hands held the finest tremor. That shaking wasn’t due to his age—the man was steadier with a gun than any Winchester. Nerves, maybe? Wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t going to say anything about it, though, because his pants were being slid down his hips and if he mentioned it, Bobby might stop.

Something in him _really_ did not want Bobby to stop.

Sam wanted those hands back on his skin, even if he had to put them there himself. 

When the steadily warming air wrapped itself around his bare cock, the thought ran through his head that this was the first time he had ever been exposed like this. Even with their two… incidents before, Bobby had never seen him naked. What the fuck was this going to mean? The older man had never touched his cock either, and there was a chance that wasn’t going to happen now, but there was also the chance that it would. Bobby kept saying that he would do whatever Sam needed, but did he really mean that?

All of the things he could ask for were running through his mind and when he looked down, he was surprised to find his cock wasn’t standing at attention. He must have been still worn out from before—the result of his orgasm was still slicking him and clinging to the bit of hair at his base in thick clumps.

He could hear Bobby swallow hard and curse under his breath. “You, uh… you always make that big of a mess?”

A short nod, not even checking to see where Bobby was looking. Most of the people he’d been with—which wasn’t many—thought it was hot. They liked seeing Sam’s release pooling on his stomach as they fucked him. He had no idea what Bobby was thinking and he apparently wasn’t meant to know as the subject was quickly changed.

“Think you can manage by yourself or do ya want…”

“Want. Please.” What specifically was he asking for? It didn’t really matter, but he wanted it regardless.

Bobby nodded and tapped a hand against Sam’s side. It was so close to his hip, too close, and it felt good to have even just the quick touch. “Go ahead and get in. Don’t try standin’ without support if you feel woozy.”

The water was warm and the steam did make his head swim, but it was comfortable in here. Like a blanket surrounding him. He rested his weight on his shoulder against the tile wall, letting the water beat against his chest. It was easing some of the tension that spiked earlier when he started worrying about Bobby seeing him naked. If the guy was willing to shove two fingers up his ass and fuck them into him until he came, then having his cock exposed shouldn’t be an issue.

He heard the soft whoosh of the shower curtain being pulled aside and then back into place, and the presence behind him added another layer of warmth. Bobby didn’t even have to touch him, just stand near enough, and he could feel the radiating heat. With his eyes closed, he could sense when those rough hands almost made contact with his back, his side, his shoulder, before retreating every time.

“You can touch me. If you want.”

Lack of explicit permission must have been what held him back, because now there were hands falling to Sam’s hips. Not moving. Not trying to pull or press or anything. Just holding onto him the slightest bit, knowing he wasn’t going to fuck this up, but still afraid that the younger man might slip away.

“Y’ startin’ to feel better?” Bobby’s voice was gentle, but held the gravel as always, and fuck if Sam didn’t have to swallow hard to get his own voice back.

“Yeah, standing seems to be getting a little easier.” _With you around to help_.

“Good, good. Let’s get you washed up, then.”

It wasn’t posed as a question, but he nodded anyway. Hands were being lathered with soap—it was a distinct sound—and soon they were rubbing over his shoulders, bubbles smearing over his skin. Thumbs were pressing on the good side of too hard into his back muscles and shoulder blades, more a massage than a cleaning. Hell if he was going to argue with it, though.

“Feel good?”

“Yesss, _mmm_.” It was nice to release the groan instead of keeping it contained, letting it reverberate in his chest for a long moment. “Need me to turn around?” Sam asked after a moment, giving Bobby a slight glance over his shoulder.

“No, stay there.” The command was strong and hands gripped at his waist, not permitting him to turn. Maybe he didn’t want Sam to move because he was regretting this—all of it, everything from before.

“Whatever you’re thinkin’, ease up. Don’t need you messin’ up the relaxation I’m tryin’ t’ give you here.”

He sighed and let his head hang forward under the spray, water beating against the back of his neck and running into his hair. Even if he wasn’t thinking about motives and meaning, he was still not going to be completely relaxed under those hands. Not yet. That was still going to take time, if Bobby even wanted to keep doing… things. There was so much that Sam wanted and he didn’t know what the older man was willing to give him yet, and maybe that wasn’t going to be a concern. He wouldn’t be surprised if they got out of the shower and Bobby told him to leave.

There was a tap to the underside of his left arm along with a request for him to lift it a little. As he did, freshly soaped hands ran from his wrist up the length to meet with his shoulder. The process was repeated with the other, just as slow and torturous before both hands were removed again. “Do you want me to rinse off?”

“Wait ‘til I tell you to. Want to be able to see that I got everything. ‘Cept your legs; I’m not bendin’ down to get those.”

Sam laughed, but the sound cut off as Bobby’s hands came to his armpits to wash away the hint of sweat scent from earlier. He wasn’t a ticklish person, but the light rubbing stole his breath. It wasn’t like underarms were a private place, but no one had ever touched him there in such a manner. Cleaning. Caring.

Shifting forward, Bobby began to rub the suds across his pectorals, fingertips ghosting up to his collarbones. There was no doubt that the repeated brush over Sam’s nipples was intentional and he had only been slightly aware before that it was able to turn him on this much. That very familiar heat was already starting to pool in his gut.

“F-fuck me,” he cursed under his breath as Bobby traced a circle around the very edge of one of the hardening buds.

A slight chuckle and then, “If that’s somethin’ you want, we’ll talk about it.”

Sam _did not_ whine.

Sure, he’d thought about it in a fantasy kind of way, but until tonight it had never been close to a thing he thought could happen. Multiple times he wondered how it would feel to have the man’s cock buried in him, and he shivered with want. There wasn’t a chance of vocalizing anything with Bobby’s attentions concentrated on spreading his hands wide over every plane of Sam’s body. It was still incredible how he was going to continue to fall apart over being touched.

“You doin’ ok there?” Thankfully, he took the time to soap his hands.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed deep, realizing he needed to remember how to breathe. Pressure settled on his abdomen. “S-shit, Bobby.”

Small, slow circles into his muscles, both hands managing to span almost the entirety of his stomach, from the bottom of his sternum to his hips. Rubbing already clean skin cleaner. He’d showered before dinner and he didn’t get that dirty, aside from the mess he made inside his boxers. That had all been mostly rinsed away by the shower spray before company joined him in the shower.

“Can I?”

“Can you wh—oh.” He’d been lost in his own thoughts, unaware that Bobby’s hands had stilled, one resting low on his belly. Very low. So low that if he said yes there was no mistaking where that hand would be next. It rested gently at the point where the faint line of hair down his stomach widened into the patch right above his cock, and he knew the answer wasn’t going to be no. “Yes.”

He thought the hand was going straight for his quickly filling erection, but the fingers were content to trail back and forth through that small, curled thatch. It was like lightning glancing off his skin, feeling the touch in every hair follicle as the pads of Bobby’s fingers shifted to brush against the base of his cock. The teasing, he knew, wasn’t intentional and it had only been going on just a few minutes, but it felt like it had already been forever.

“Please, touch me. Please, fuck, just do it.” Sam had leaned back, looking down the length of his body, watching as that calloused hand slid down to grip his cock. Bobby wasn’t stroking him, just feeling the weight of it rest in his palm. A firm hold while remaining gentle and Sam’s moan echoed off the shower tile. It hadn’t taken much for him to get hard, even though he’d already come not long ago.

Bobby’s arm was now wrapped tight around his middle, stabilizing him, pulling their bodies flush, and Sam couldn’t help focusing on the hard cock pressed into his backside. Angling his hips, he pushed the meat of his ass to rub against it, getting the older man’s cock to slide along the cleft between his cheeks. He wasn’t overly long, but he was thick, and Sam wanted to know how it would feel to have that forced into him only stretched two fingers wide.

It was stupid how hard he was with the warmth of Bobby’s hand wrapped around him. He wasn’t even moving along his length and Sam was going to unravel from that alone. Already he was trying not to force his hips through the tight circle of Bobby’s fist.

“Want me to… Think you can come again?”

“Yes, fuck, I know I can. I don’t know what it is, but you make it so easy.”

Bobby groaned at that and finally moved his fist, stroking up until his thumb was just under the flared head before sliding back down. His knuckle had grazed the bundle of nerves on the underside of his cock and Sam was trying to reign himself in. He wanted to fucking scream already and he wasn’t that close to coming yet, but he was holding his noises to minor panting and grunting.

It was the wrong thing to do, apparently, because Bobby stopped stroking him, holding tightly at the base of his cock. “We talked about this already.”

“What?”

“Stop tryin’ t’ bottle everythin’ up.”

“I just—” Another short stroke interrupted him. “I’m gonna be loud.”

“Good.” Sam thought he was going to lose his footing as Bobby’s tugging on his cock became rapid fire and a moan was ripped from him. “That’s it, boy.” He slowed to a stop, letting Sam regain his breath. “Let’s rinse the soap off, so I can do this proper.”

When the arm dropped from his waist, Sam stepped forward under the spray, rinsing all of the soap suds down the drain and slicking his hair back with water. He was surprised it was still this warm and was going to comment on the size of Bobby’s water heater when one of those hands snuck underneath his dick to gently tug at his sack.

“Fuck, Bobby!” Sam’s hand flew out to catch himself against the shower wall as he faltered. “Oh god, _ahh_ , please.” He was cupping him, rolling his balls in his hand, stroking his thumb between them, and it made him whimper. “Please make me come. God, I need you.”

Hands on his hips were tugging him away from the reach of the water and he already missed the contact where he wanted it most. Bobby bodily maneuvered him sideways, so Sam could plant both hands on the tile walls and spread his legs apart a little more. The sound of spit and then he was being stroked steadily from base to tip, hand twisting at the head before sliding back down, and Sam fucking lost it.

“Faster, oh fuck, faster.” Bobby complied, working his whole length before adding three short strokes just over the head. “I’m gonna come so good for you, _nnng_ , shit! Gonna watch me streak up your shower, huh? You’re making me so fucking wet, I just wanted this so much. God, your hands are incredible.”

He’d never run his mouth like this before in his life. Moaning, yes, that was common, even a little cursing, but he had never talked so much. For some reason, Sam couldn’t find it in him to be concerned or self-conscious about it. Between the slick of Bobby’s spit and his own precome, the slide down his shaft was perfect. He could feel the twitch of each bead of fluid forced to the tip of his dick before being rubbed along him.

“God, Sam.” There was awe in his voice, and Sam could feel a brush of that fat cock against his ass every so often as Bobby’s hips bucked forward.

“You like having me, _ah_ , all strung out like this? Like knowing you did this to me? Fuck, almost t-there.” Usually Sam tried to drag it out, force himself to last, but he was quickly toppling over the edge and he wasn’t about to hold himself back. His orgasms were stronger if he did, but right now he was likely to blackout or cry, neither of which was an option he wanted currently. “Shit, want you to come with me. Mark my ass with your come, please, need you to. Fuck, I’m gonna— _ohhh_!”

No more standing still and taking what Bobby gave him. He was thrusting into each stroke as he watched white streaks spurting from his cock and painting the wall in front of him. There wasn’t as much as normal, but his balls were tight to his body, forcing it out of him. The shaking only lasted for a couple more seconds before he was able to settle and take a deep breath.

“Shit, boy. That was… wow.”

Sam chuckled in his post-orgasm haze. “Wasn’t really that strong, either. I don’t know what got into me. Sorry.”

“Yeah, uh, don’t be. Was fine.”

“You got a thing for dirty talk?” He wriggled his ass backwards a little and found that Bobby was still hard. Could even feel his dick twitch forward into the contact like it wanted to be there. Had Sam not been enough to get him off. “You want me to take care of that for you?” He offered for the second time that night.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m gonna crawl in bed and get some shut eye.”

“Oh.” His voice sounded small even to him. “Yeah, ok.”

“Do you… You can say no, but do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight? There’s enough space for two people comfortably.”

He was nodding before he even thought about it.

“All right. Well, rinse that stuff off before it cements to my wall and then come to bed.” 

There was a friendly pat to his hip, and Bobby was out of the shower before Sam turned back around. The disappointment at not being able to see the other man—not knowing what he looked like underneath his clothes—was surprising. Was this another sign of him regretting what they were doing?

Sam did what he was told, rinsing down everything before turning the water off and climbing out. He padded into his room in just a towel to grab a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt, but decided to forgo the shirt. Wasn’t much of a reason to wear one and he slept better without it anyway.

When he got to Bobby’s room, the man was already snoring on his side of the bed. Figures he wouldn’t get to ask him about this one either. After two orgasms, he was pretty tired and even his unease wasn’t enough to keep him awake long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship sideblog: [wingedwincest.tumblr.com](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr.tumblr.com](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam still thinks that maybe Bobby regrets saying he'd help. If this is going to come to an end, he at least wants to know what it's like to have Bobby's cock in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: a little bit of self loathing, implied wincest, somnophilia, blowjob, body worship, cuddling, frottage, come eating, first kiss
> 
> A/N: Fuck, I put so many things in a short chapter. Alright, y’all. I don’t even know where I’m going with this. I mean, I vaguely do, but also every time I write something, it gets more out of hand than I intended. I can tell you now, there are at least six more chapters to this. Every one of them is sex because the both of them need more of it, clearly. This will fall into a sort of D/s relationship in a coming chapter, I just don’t know how or which one yet.

The very edges of sun were peeking through the crack in the curtain when Sam woke. He groaned and stretched, his back cracking a little. It wasn’t clear exactly what time it was, but the answer was earlier than he wanted to be awake. Instead of streaming in and brightening the room, the light was just bleeding in the faintest bit, the glow still mostly blue instead of warm yellow.

Sounds of light snoring drifted over to his side of the bed, making Sam smile to himself. This was comfortable, being here next to Bobby. They weren’t touching and that was still ok, but he _wanted_ to be pressed up against him. Something was tugging at him, telling him to roll over and curl up as close to the guy as he could get. 

He was still a bit too groggy to make a judgement, but it seemed like this was the best night’s sleep he’d gotten in almost a year. Since Dean had stopped wanting to share a bed with him. That was in the past though, and right at this moment, he wasn’t going to let it bother him.

His brain was already preoccupied with something else.

Sam didn’t know for sure, but it was seeming more and more likely that Bobby regretted saying that he would do anything to help him. This was a weird problem he had, so it made sense that maybe the older man didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Hell, he barely knew himself how to handle all of this. He just needed so badly to be touched.

But, why wouldn’t Bobby let Sam touch _him_? His dick had been just as hard as his own, but he didn’t accept when Sam offered either time. The first time he wasn’t entirely sure what he would have done or if he wanted to do it, but after being jerked off in the shower, he was one hundred percent certain that he wanted to reciprocate. Something in him had just clicked and he knew. Bobby had held back from rubbing off in the cleft of his ass, but that wasn’t necessary. 

Sam wanted it.

Still did. 

Nothing had really changed since the night before, except that he was more sure of himself. He needed to know what was going on in Bobby’s head. Maybe he’d get the courage to talk about it when the older man woke up.

He rolled over onto his other side, now able to take in Bobby’s sleeping form, and Sam couldn’t help a light chuckle. The man slept with his mouth open—the source of the not quite snore. The wrinkles that were almost a permanent fixture of his forehead had softened. It was a sight he didn’t often get to see, even being around so much now. Peace looked good on him.

There was hesitation is the way he gently scooted forward until he was tucked against Bobby’s side. He didn’t want to wake him right now and have him reject the contact. The man was warm and his smell was familiar. It was so comfortable like this. Even just this—just being pressed up against him—no arms or legs involved, was nice.

It was no surprise that his dick was starting to chime in. Honestly, he was more surprised that it wasn’t already hard when he woke up. If Sam had been pressed against Bobby to start with, there was no doubt he would have been. But he wasn’t going to do anything about it, not right now. He wasn’t even interested in it—was more of just an instinctual reaction now when he was touching someone.

Touching was becoming as important as being touched. Maybe it always was; he didn’t know. But the fact was, he was starting to want to feel Bobby’s skin against his. More moments like last night—though the clothes between them weren’t a bad thing. They just weren’t helpful right now when the man beside him was warm, Sam was hard between his legs, and there was saliva starting to pool under his tongue.

He knew what he wanted.

Sam needed something in his mouth.

What would happen if he just went for it? He’d never tried to do something while someone was asleep before. There was a term for it that he couldn’t quite recall, but it didn’t so much matter. If he did this, it was an invasion of private space. If he did this and the older man didn’t want it, then he was going to lose the only person who was willing to touch him.

Who the fuck was he kidding. Bobby was likely to reject him even if he didn’t do it. At least then he would know for sure that this was all a big mistake and that he didn’t want to take care of Sam anymore.

The bed creaked as Sam maneuvered his body under the covers, between the man’s legs, which were conveniently spread to leave just enough space for him. His heart was throbbing in his chest, anxious for this, needing to feel. Was it loud enough to be heard or strong enough to be felt if he pressed his chest to any part of Bobby’s skin?

Before he could convince himself further that he was about to make a mistake, Sam reached through the gap in the man’s boxers and took his soft cock in hand. He knew it was likely weird to be in awe of a flaccid dick, but the fact that he was touching it made his gasp softly. Bobby wasn’t as thick as some of the men he’d been with before, but even soft it was easy to tell he was long. There would be a few inches that he might have to choke on before they fit into his throat. It was a challenge he was going to gladly accept.

Sam was slow in removing Bobby’s cock from his boxers, not knowing how easily the man would stir. He was going to get yelled at later, he was sure of it, and he wanted to at least have the comfort of knowing what it was like to have that soft skin in his mouth. Part of him wanted to take a minute to study it, to slowly work him with his hand and watch him get hard. The part of him that wanted to feel him get hard against his tongue was the part that won out.

His first licks against the head were gentle and slow, wetting the skin and warming it with breaths that were being forced from his chest. It wasn’t like they were being punched out of him, but they weren’t able to be contained. Just like everything else in his body right now, his breath needed to be against Bobby’s skin.

There was a sigh from above him as Sam closed his lips around the head, giving a short and soft suckle. He gasped when he ran his tongue across the slit, a burst of precome coating his taste buds. Fuck, just this little bit tasted good. What would it be like to have the man come across his tongue?

Bobby’s cock was hardening, lengthening, allowing Sam to take a little more into his mouth. By the time he was fully hard, Sam had his mouth full, tongue running over every inch that it could reach. Bobby was hard and warm, and so wet.

The first bob of Sam’s head was overzealous, causing the tip to strike the back of his throat. He couldn’t help but moan around the cock filling him, stretching him as it tried to enter that tightness. He forced himself to keep his strokes shorter after that, not wanting any noise to wake up the older man. It was hard to keep a consistent pace, always wanting to go faster, get closer to the moment where Bobby would come in his mouth, but if he wanted that, he needed to keep it slow.

It was a stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t resist taking him deeper, letting Bobby into his throat, feeling himself choke and constrict around the head. He was fucking euphoric with it and didn’t notice the man stirring, eyes coming open.

“Sam!” There were hands at his shoulders, pushing him off. “What’re you doin’?”

He got to his knees and then sat back on his haunches, watching as Bobby covered himself with a sheet, his expression incredulous. The rock that had settled in Sam’s gut made him want to run out of the room and be sick, knowing that he had fucked this up so incredibly. The man had physically pushed him away. There was no clearer indicator than that.

“I'm, fuck, I'm sorry. This was so stupid. Just gonna g-go.” The feet that were already under him were clumsy in getting off the bed. He just wanted to leave, so that Bobby never had to see him again and he wouldn't feel like such a goddamn idiot.

It wasn't until Bobby was halfway through a sentence that Sam registered, first, that he was speaking, and second, that there was a hand wrapped tight around his wrist preventing him from leaving.

“What?”

“I asked what you were doin’. I didn't say y’ needed to go.”

Sam’s nerves were trying to vibrate him out of his skin and he couldn't stop his voice from faltering. “it's j-just, I know you d-dont want this and, and I, um… I'm not gonna stay where I… I'm not wanted.”

Bobby was hauling him forward by the wrist, throwing him off balance and forcing Sam to catch himself on his hands and knees. The older man had sat up, making him closer, more intimidating and he knew this was it. He was going to get scolded for trying to suck him off in his sleep.

“What in the hell makes you think you ain’t wanted.” It wasn’t a question and Sam gulped around the knot building in his throat. “Did somethin’ not click when I said I would do anythin’ you needed?”

“But you won’t let me touch you!”

The outburst actually made Bobby sit back, leaning against the headboard. It was quiet for the span of a few moments as Sam could see him mentally grappling for the right words. He wasn’t sure if that was going to be a good thing.

“‘Cause I figured you wouldn’ want to.”

It was Sam’s turn to struggle for the right words as his brain wrapped around those, but he didn’t need to find them when the other man continued.

“Look, I’m obviously no spring chicken. I’ve got some wrinkles, I’m not all buff like you and your brother, and my hair is greying in… places,” he said with a vague gesture to most of him. “I know I ain’t what you’re lookin’ for, so I stayed back. Made this about you and makin’ sure you got what you needed.”

“Why would I care about those things?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Bobby, I…” He floundered for just a second before getting himself together again. “Please let me finish what I started.” There were more words, other words, that he wanted to say to help him understand, but that could come later. For now, he was just going to hope that the man could see the want in Sam’s eyes.

It was hesitant, like he couldn’t believe he was about to agree to it, but Bobby slowly nodded, before resting again, slightly propped up on his pillows. Instinct and desire took over where Sam was supposed to move, how he was supposed to touch. The nervousness and fear of a possible rejection from earlier was dissipating, though a small piece was still lurking in the back of his mind. This could all be over with one word.

He crawled back into the space between the man’s knees, leaning down to place soft kisses to the skin above them. Sam had to push the legs of Bobby’s boxers up just a little to be able to access more of his inner thigh, and the noises he was making were somewhere between cautious and enjoying it. His cock was still standing at attention where it poked through the gap in his boxers, a clear drop of precome beading at the tip when he gently sucked a mark high up on Bobby’s thigh.

It was a short lick across the head to gather it on his tongue, reveling again in the taste. Sam had meant to wait, ease Bobby into it now that he was awake, but the urge to have his mouth on that cock again was too strong. He was able to refrain from going all the way down the first three times, but then he was taking Bobby’s cock to the base, the length of it pushing into his throat. There was no reason to hold back the moans now, so he let them vibrate through them both.

“Sh-shit. Who taught you to suck dick like that, boy?” he said with a laugh.

It was rhetorical but Sam couldn’t control when he looked up at Bobby with a cocked eyebrow and kept going.

“I should’ve known. He was always teachin’ you shit he shouldn’t’ve.”

He pulled off and chuckled as he wiped a little extra spit from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t seem to be complaining right now.”

“Yeah, well…” Sam was pushing his shirt up to expose his belly when Bobby’s hands stopped him. “Hey, you really don’t have t—”

Sam was quiet for a few moments until he softly replied, “I’m not doing this because I have to. Do you really think that just because you’re a little older that I’m not going to find you attractive if you take your clothes off?” His thumb was able to find bare skin along the man’s side and he stroked it while he talked. “‘Cause I can promise you, Bobby, that’s not the case here.”

While his brow was furrowed in thought, Sam was able to push his shirt up, slowly exposing more of his stomach. He shifted his legs to the outside, bracketing Bobby’s thighs and holding his own weight more securely as he leaned down to brush his lips against the slight pudge caused by a few too many beers a week. “This?” he said with another open-mouthed kiss to his belly. “This isn’t a bad thing. It means you eat and that you’re enjoying your life. You’re. Alive. It’s amazing.” His words were accented with more kisses and he realized it was because he couldn’t keep his mouth off of him once he started. “And I’ll tell you, I always thought a bit of grey hair on a man was hot.”

Sam chuckled and nuzzled his nose into the greying trail leading into Bobby’s boxers, making him gasp. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of them before looking up for permission. The worry about overstepping boundaries was still there, but he relaxed when he received a nod. He didn’t remove them entirely, just down his thighs, enough that he could see everything he wanted. 

Saliva flooded his mouth again as he cupped Bobby’s balls, gently rolling them and testing their weight. Sam knew he could fit them both in his mouth at the same time and one day he was going to have that. Wanted to run his tongue over such soft skin and slick them up.

He whined when there was a firm swipe over the front of his boxers where his cock was leaking a wet spot onto the material. Bobby was thumbing it repeatedly, pressing over the head and rubbing his dilated slit. Each twitch of his cock leaked more slickness into his boxers as Sam felt the pressure in his lower belly starting to build. “Holy f-fuck, _ohh_.”

There were supposed to be more words, but they weren’t quite working as Bobby pushed Sam’s boxers down as far as they would go on his spread thighs. His balance was thrown off when there were hands on his hips, tugging him lower until their cocks were rubbing against each other. 

The pressure was intense already, but it practically tripled when Sam wrapped a hand around the both of them. His dick supplied what lubrication his mouth hadn’t already and the slide through his fist was tight, hot, slick. The older man groaned beneath him whenever he would rub over the head of his cock.

“That feel good?”

“You have no idea.” He moaned again.

Sam laughed and quickened his pace, needing to get him off. That fear from their times before was still needling at him and it wasn’t going to settle until they were done. “Is it… um…”

“More than enough, _fuck_. No one else has touched me like this in a long time.”

Sam leaned closer, and he wasn’t truly aware of just how close his mouth was to Bobby’s when speaking. “Then let me keep doing this,” he was whispering and he didn’t mean to, but his breath was being drawn from his lungs and maybe he didn’t need air after all. “Let me suck you off in the middle of the night and then again in the morning. Let me fucking ride you until you can’t see straight. If you’re going to be doing these things for me, then let me do them for you, too. Promise me.”

Any chance of a reply was gone when Bobby moaned long and low, the muscles in his abdomen contracting as thick spurts of come streaked his skin. Sam could feel that cock twitching against his own as the man came, his hand still working them both and the combination pulled him over the edge seconds later. 

He meant to look at Bobby’s face, make sure one final time this was ok, but he couldn’t stop watching their cocks unload together, his own pulsing out a load large enough to rival the one that slicked the inside of his boxers the night before. Watching their come mix together on the man’s stomach made him whine.

When the tightness in his balls had eased, Sam was able to breathe again and assess his body. Everything felt good and loose, except his hips had begun to ache from holding his weight. He tried to straighten up, would move off and go get a towel or something to clean them up, but Bobby was guiding him down to the bed next to him. There was an arm wrapped around him, giving Sam a place to rest his head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for that,” Bobby said, followed by a noise Sam never thought he’d get to hear.

It was such a weird thing to hear a man like Bobby almost giggle with the heady post-orgasm feeling they were both stewing in. He cleared his throat quickly after, a recognition of the vulnerability, but even that didn’t draw Sam’s eyes up to his face. They were still glued to the whiteness resting thickly on Bobby’s skin.

“Y’ alright?”

The words that were supposed to come out were, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Instead, Sam surprised himself.

“Will you feed it to me?”

Shit.

What the fuck?

Bobby was going to think he was some weird kind of freak. There were things Sam knew he liked that were considered out of the ordinary, but he was never going to mention those to him. Just this was enough to keep him happy for a long time and now here he was, fucking it up again, and why couldn’t he have just kept his mouth sh—

Fingers. There were two fingers, nudging wet at his lips and it took him a second to accept them into his mouth. It was salty and thick and it tasted like heaven. He moaned and sucked the digits dry, swallowing it down. Sam thought he’d only have the one taste and he was content with that, but those fingers were put back into his mouth after dragging through the mess a second time.

His eyes were on Bobby now, observing the way the man panted as he fed his fingers one last time into Sam’s mouth. He let them come to rest on his tongue, absorbing everything of their taste. It was driving the older man crazy. His eyes were hazy with fresh want, and it was a surprise when Bobby removed his fingers and his tongue chased into the spot they were just filling.

The beard was rough against his skin, but Sam didn’t mind. It evened out the soft brushes of tongue that collected the remaining taste of their orgasm. The kiss wasn’t slow, wasn’t cautious. Just gentle. It didn’t feel wrong at all, though.

Just as abruptly as it started, it ended. Bobby pulled back, eyes wide and startled, an unnecessary apology forming on his lips.

“It’s ok, Bobby. That was ok.”

“I didn’ ask.”

Sam pecked him on the lips. “Still ok. I don’t know what it means, but it’s ok.”

Bobby laughed softly. “Don’ know what it means either.” His smile was gentle and worn out.

“Let’s go back to sleep for a while.” Sam rested his head against the man’s shoulder again. “We can figure it out later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> SPN NSFW Multi-ship sideblog: [wingedwincest.tumblr.com](http://www.wingedwincest.tumblr.com)  
> Main blog: [castielsstarr.tumblr.com](http://www.castielsstarr.tumblr.com)


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